Stranger, stay, nor wish to climb The heights of yonder hills sublime; For there strange shapes and spirits dwell,[1] That oft the murmuring thunders swell, Of power from the impending steep...
The Norman armament beneath thy rocks, St Valerie, Is moored; and, streaming to the morn, three hundred banners fly, Of crimson silk; with golden cross, effulgent o'er the rest,...
By thy habitation dread, In the valley of the dead, Where no sun, nor day, nor night, Breaks the red and dusky light; By the grisly troops, that ride, Of slaughtered Spaniards, at thy side,--...
While summer airs scarce breathe along the tide, Oft pausing, up the mountain's craggy side We climb, how beautiful, how still, how clear, The scenes that stretch around! The rocks that rear...
So passes silent o'er the dead thy shade, Brief Time; and hour by hour, and day by day, The pleasing pictures of the present fade, And like a summer vapour steal away! ...
Oh, cast every care to the wind, And dry, best beloved, the tear! Secure, that thou ever shalt find, The friend of thy bosom sincere. Still friendship shall live in the breast of the brave,...
High on Imaus' solitary van, Which overlooked the kingdoms of the world, With stature more majestic, his stern brow In the clear light, the thunder at his feet;...
Shout! for the Lord hath triumphed gloriously! Upon the shores of that renowned land, Where erst His mighty arm and outstretched hand He lifted high, And dashed, in pieces dashed the enemy;...
How sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal! As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze Breathes on the trembling sense of pale disease, So piercing to my heart their force I feel!...
There is a poor blind man, who, every day, In summer sunshine, or in winter's rain, Duly as tolls the bell, to the high fane Explores, with faltering footsteps, his dark way,...